


archimedes in love

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: John is trying to make things easier for the both of them.Rodney, it turns out, has never really learned to do anything the easy way.
Relationships: Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	archimedes in love

i.

The infirmary is deserted when Rodney comes in.

Unless it’s crunch time and people zip in and out for all sorts of things, be it stimulants to stay awake or bandages for both accidental and self-inflicted injuries, the medical staff always keeps the lights dim at night. Only the corners are kept bright, and for Rodney, who has always preferred to sleep in pitch-black darkness when he has the luxury, it has made his otherwise frustrating trips to the recovery ward a little bearable.

It’s why it catches him off guard to find Sheppard wide awake, propped up by at least four pillows, and looking like he’s a breath away from contemplating his navel.

“I sincerely hope you’re not thinking about a prison break,” Rodney says in lieu of a greeting. He makes a production of slowly and deliberately staring at the cast that is covering Sheppard’s left leg from ankle to knee, before shifting his gaze back to the other man’s squinting eyes. “I’ve been told the lame never make it.”

Right on cue, Sheppard gives him a vicious sneer, the misery apparently eclipsed by irritation.

“Don’t think I need both my legs to kick your ass, McKay.”

As if to prove his point, Sheppard braces both his hands on either side, and lifts his upper body in what he probably thinks is a better sitting position. The sneer quickly slips away as he moans in relief, the sound amplified in the empty ward.

“Well,” Rodney starts, shaking away the sudden warmth in his cheeks, “what did our esteemed medical practitioners say? They letting you out anytime soon?”

The question prompts the sneer back into the surface, only this time it’s not aimed at Rodney.

“Marie is evil,” Sheppard declares, as serious as the proverbial heart attack. “Pure evil.”

When the other man continues to glare daggers at something behind Rodney, he follows Sheppard’s gaze to the door of the medical staff’s quarters. Inside, the lamp appears to be turned on, and Marie is no doubt camped inside to ensure that no one comes to take their wayward military commander away. If Rodney speaks any louder, he knows the good doctor will wake up and eventually drive him away. The woman’s such a light sleeper, and she knows all their dirty tricks.

“I take it not anytime soon, then.”

Ignoring Sheppard’s scoff, Rodney takes one of the chairs, slowly lifting it to avoid the scraping sound all infirmary furniture tend to produce, and settles down.

“Which explains why you look like you’re on death row,” he adds for good measure.

Amazing enough, Sheppard goes for the high road and doesn’t take the bait. He slumps back on his pillows, and continues to brood in silence.

“You mind if I keep you company?”

If Sheppard protests, Rodney’s just gonna say that the injured and bedridden one is in no position to make demands. But of course, Sheppard doesn’t. They’ve long since stopped needing permission for things like this, after all.

ii.

“Rodney?”

Jennifer’s voice sounds distant, like a dreamer’s adventure that is already beginning to fade away. The restaurant, and all the people around them, are now nothing but a swirl of colors and shapes, a Dali painting at the edge of Rodney’s consciousness.

When he finds himself back to their table, the first sensation his mind registers is the grip he has on the wine glass, tight and white-knuckle.

“Hmm?”

Across from him, Rodney’s girlfriend purses her lips¸ beautiful face betraying her worry and apprehension.

“It’s just…this is a big thing for me, you know? And the way Carolyn described it, it’s, I mean, it’s what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I joined the SGC.”

Head of Medical Research. Cheyenne Mountain. Earth.

“Besides,” She stops fiddling with her purse to reach across the table, grasping Rodney’s free hand with dainty fingers, “we’ve both had our fair share of life-threatening escapades, don’t you think?”

Despite all efforts, Rodney remains still. He hasn’t moved since Jennifer finished an entire glass of champagne in one go before dropping the bomb that’s been causing her nervousness and furtive glances for the past few days. It’s funny, really, that while Rodney’s so good at handling all kinds of explosive devices, this one he has no idea how to approach.

“Rodney? Please say something.”

In what seems to be the first instance of good luck in the last five years of his life, Rodney is saved from having to respond when his SGC-issued phone comes to life.

Jennifer also receives the same message, and it’s her words that snap him completely back to the present, make his limbs move again.

“It’s Colonel Sheppard. He’s been brought to the infirmary.”

iii.

“Wanna hear something funny?”

It’s rather impressive, how Rodney can tell the exact moment Sheppard holds his breath.

After a short game of Prime Not Prime, and when their attempts to play mental chess ended up with Sheppard threatening to break _Rodney’s_ leg after he insisted that the other man is cheating for the fifth time, Sheppard decided to close his eyes and let Rodney talk to his heart’s content. He remains quiet through Rodney’s retelling of all the things that went wrong in the labs, and gives the occasional huff of agreement and disagreement when Rodney gets to Jeannie’s increasingly-scathing emails. All customary, all on script. It’s only when Sheppard’s breathing changes that Rodney knows he’s surprised the other man.

When Sheppard opens his eyes, Rodney can see that under the dim, infirmary lights, they’re more brown than green.

“Funny,” Sheppard repeats, his flat voice more effective than a raised eyebrow.

Rodney shrugs. “What? Radek was bored.”

This time, Sheppard spares a disbelieving huff. “Bored.”

Before their conversation can devolve into another squabble, with Sheppard repeating every word like the way Ronon does when he’s being purposely obtuse, Rodney waves a dismissing hand.

“Yes, bored. Apparently three disasters a day did not meet his quota. Now do you want to hear something funny or shall I just leave you to sulk yourself into an early dementia?” He cuts Sheppard’s response just as the man opens his mouth. Rodney will pay for that later, but it’s worth it to see the malicious glare that's sent his way. “Turns out Biro can drink Major Lorne under the table. He didn’t even make it to his third flask before he’s out like a light.”

Sheppard frowns. “Why were they drinking?”

“It was at Biro’s wedding. The SGC rented an entire bar for the reception, can you believe that?”

“Wedding,” the Colonel repeats again. Rodney doesn’t even have time to get irritated, because Sheppard has gone absolutely still. “When was this?”

“Thursday,” Rodney supplies. He can always tell if Sheppard’s interested, since he’s asking for more information. What’s new to him is the tight lines around the man’s mouth, like Sheppard doesn’t want to let anyone know that he cares at all. “You were with O’Neill, and I was…well, you know.”

It’s only because he’s watching closely that Rodney catches the flinch.

“I…I didn’t know Biro was dating anybody.”

Rodney hasn’t been made aware either, but then neither Carson nor Jennifer have been particularly interested in talking about the medical staff’s personal lives.

“Childhood sweetheart. Same place at the same time. When they reconciled, Biro immediately grabbed the opportunity to tie the knot. Wonders of California, I guess.”

As Sheppard swallows, Rodney finds himself fixated on the movement of the man’s Adam’s apple. It takes a moment before he hears the next question.

“So Biro’s not going back to Pegasus, then?”

“Hmm?” Rodney blinks, mind slotting back into place. “Oh. No, she’s going back. Apparently her wife is a brilliant anthropologist, though I’m sure the brilliant part is more spousal obligation than any actual fact, so she’s pushing for SGC to recruit her to the expedition. Jackson’s going over her file as we speak.”

It isn’t until he watches Sheppard open and close his mouth four times, no words coming out, that Rodney realizes what the problem is.

“Wife,” Sheppard manages to choke out as Rodney freezes in his own seat. “Biro is married. To a woman.”

It’s amazing really, how much the subconscious mind can direct one’s conscious choices and actions. Before tonight, Rodney will never have considered that he may have just chosen that conversation topic for a reason.

“Yes. A woman.” When he answers, Rodney makes sure that his voice is steady. It takes effort, and he suspects its only Sheppard’s own stunned response that lets him get away with it. “You have a problem with that?”

The silence that follows is heavy and meaningful, and Rodney tries not to hold his breath as he waits for the answer.

“No. No, I don’t.”

iv.

It’s a quarter after midnight when Radek finally ejects Rodney out of the labs.

He’s running very important simulations and attempting to simplify Samantha Carter’s misguided star drive equations when Zelenka, who just came back from ‘a lovely time, a real vacation, you should try it sometime, Rodney’ in Prague this morning, places his little turncoat hands in his bony, turncoat hips and orders Rodney to bed before he is forced to take desperate measures. Times like this, Rodney has to wonder just exactly who is the boss of whom, and why he even entertained the idea that he missed Radek at all.

The plan is to go straight to his quarters and stay unconscious until high noon. While they’ve kept Atlantis running by a skeleton crew for the past few months, things have been quiet and relatively peaceful. Repairs and recalibration projects aside, there really aren’t many reasons to justify an all-nighter, and if anyone deserves to sleep for the next decade and a half, it’s Rodney.

But as he follows familiar corridors and walkways, it’s not his quarters that Rodney finds himself going to.

“Rodney?”

They have access to each other’s rooms, Rodney and his team, and even after Torren, Teyla still doesn’t get upset when he occasionally forgets himself and barges into her space without preamble.

This time, though, Rodney stays in the hallway as he waits for Teyla to come out. When she does, he sees that her hair is in disarray and her right cheek has a red print that matches the pattern of her favorite Athosian pillow. She doesn’t look as striking and dangerous, but to Rodney, Teyla will always be beautiful.

“Hi,” he greets her, suddenly very aware that he's just disturbed her sleep. “Is it a bad time?”

Instead of telling him to get lost, or very politely asking him to find his own quarters, Teyla takes his arm and leads him inside.

He occupies one of the three chairs in her balcony, avoiding the one with the wobbly leg he keeps meaning to fix, and barely manages not to jump when she places a hand on his shoulder, the other holding out a soft, yellow blanket.

“Thanks,” Rodney whispers.

He waits for Teyla to take a seat across from him, graceful even when sleep deprived, before telling her everything.

v.

When it’s starting to look like the fidgeting will never stop, Rodney stands up, deliberately loud to startle the man twisting himself into knots on the infirmary bed. Sure enough, Sheppard’s hands still, and his wild hair shakes as he looks up to stare at Rodney.

“About time,” Sheppard mutters, the sentiment not quite making it to his shadowed eyes. A couple of years ago, Rodney may have taken it at face value. He thinks he knows a little better now.

“Oh not so fast, gimpy.”

Rodney decides to take his sweet time moving from one side of the ward to the other. It gives him enough time to wipe some of the moisture in his hands on his pants where the other man in the room can’t see. When he reaches the corner where the staff keeps the wheelchairs, he turns back to Sheppard.

The answering smile he gets is quick and bright, and Rodney isn’t even all that surprised when his stomach lurches at the sight of it.

“You’re springing me?” Sheppard asks, still beaming. “For real?”

After taking a moment to enjoy the premature gratitude, Rodney gently shakes his head.

“Just for a while.” He raises his hands when Sheppard’s face falls. “Tomorrow! I’ll try tomorrow, okay? Carson’s right, anyway. You still look like shit.” Rodney scoffs when he gets another sneer. “What? You _do_. For now, we’ll just take a little midnight stroll. Fresh air and all that.”

When he returns to the bed, this time with the wheelchair, Sheppard’s arms are crossed.

“ _This_ is what I get for being nice? Attitude?” When Sheppard doesn’t budge, Rodney makes a move to steer the wheelchair back to it’s corner.

“Wait!”

Careful to hide his triumphant smirk, Rodney doesn’t turn, just tips his chin a little to the left, to indicate that he’s listening.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?”

With a little victorious huff, Rodney wheels the chair back towards the bed. “That balcony facing the North Pier should suffice. Might cheer you up a little.”

Slowly, Sheppard lifts his legs off the bed, not quite able to hide his smile. “You’re so full of shit, McKay.”

“And _you_ , my friend, are keeping your Rapunzel waiting.”

Sheppard pauses. “Rapunzel’s the one with the balcony, Rodney. It’s the prince who’s waiting below.”

“Well.” When his patient has finally settled, Rodney braces his arms to push. “Hate to break it to you, Colonel, but we don’t have any princes awake right now. I’m all you got.”

With that, Rodney keeps his eyes on the road, not entirely brave enough to check if the blush he saw on the other man’s face was real or just a trick of the light.

vi.

“Have you told John about this?”

There’s a split second of cognitive dissonance when Teyla’s words do not match the response Rodney’s been bracing for.

He opens and closes his mouth once, twice, no doubt looking like a grade-A simpleton, before he manages to squeak out a, “What?”

Not for the first time, Rodney thanks Teyla’s unwavering patience.

“John,” she repeats, as though talking to a small child. “Does he know about this?”

A part of Rodney’s mind, which is brilliant but not quite infallible, understands Teyla’s question. Sheppard is team, after all, and for sure the Colonel will be affected by the result of Rodney’s predicament, whatever it turns out to be. But it still doesn’t explain the grave look on Teyla’s face as she phrases the question.

He reluctantly decides to hazard a guess. “About Jennifer’s reassignment?”

“And her offer that you stay here with her, yes.”

Suddenly conscious of Teyla’s sharp gaze, Rodney shakes his head.

“No,” he tells her. “Not yet. Why?”

After a long moment of silence that Teyla spends pursing her lips, she takes both Rodney’s hands in her own.

“I will not dare to sway you to make either choice, Rodney, but I ask only this.” When she squeezes his hands, Rodney feels humbled and shaken all at once. “Talk to John. Before you come to a final decision, please take a moment to speak with him.”

With that, she tugs him closer, and Rodney can’t do anything but let himself be pulled to the familiar gesture. In Teyla’s warm embrace afterwards, Rodney finds himself at a loss for words.

vii.

When Sheppard’s chuckles die down, Rodney leans back against the chair, his hands laced in front of him. Beyond the balcony, San Francisco looks like a snapshot of those firefly-like insects that are native to P2X-849. Even Rodney can admit that there’s a certain beauty to it.

“Seriously,” he says, circling back to their current topic. “Sometimes I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

“Hmm?” Sheppard sounds faraway, like he’s just as lost in his own thoughts of glowing beetles and imperious little sisters.

“Jeannie,” Rodney supplies. “Blonde. Irritating. Younger, relatively-less brilliant McKay?”

Beside him, Sheppard snorts. “Don’t let her hear you saying that, buddy.”

Rodney doesn’t turn away from the soporific view, but he does narrow his eyes.

“I’m not afraid of my sister, Sheppard.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’m not!” His hands move of their own volition, waving in front of him to articulate his point. “It’s just, well, sometimes I feel like Earth’s too small for the two of us.”

What follows is a long stretch of silence, one Rodney spends squirming in his seat. It reminds him of the conversation he had with Teyla, in a different balcony, under the same night sky. After a while, Rodney’s forced to admit that maybe he’s done stalling.

He shifts in his seat to better look at the other man. “Sheppard, listen.”

Rodney stops when he realizes that Sheppard hasn’t shown any signs of having heard him.

“Sheppard?”

This time, the Colonel tips his chin a fraction to the right. “What?”

“Are you listening?”

Despite only seeing less than half of Sheppard’s face, Rodney can make out the beginnings of a smirk.

“I am. Unlike you, Rodney, people can listen without opening their mouth.”

“Oh.” When it clicks, Rodney finds himself scowling. “Oh ha-ha. Very funny, Colonel.”

“So. You were saying?”

Before he can change his mind, Rodney soldiers own.

“It’s about Jennifer.”

viii.

The morning after his talk with Teyla, Woolsey asks Rodney to meet him at his office.

A year ago, he would’ve ignored the summons, and detailed just how much time he didn’t have to waste on useless courtesy calls, but Rodney still isn’t allowed in the labs because Radek is mounting a coup, and he’s too exhausted to make a case.

When he arrives, he finds Woolsey by his desk, his tablet and what looks like three feet of folders in front of him.

“Dr. McKay,” Woolsey greets when he sees Rodney. “Come in. Have seat.”

Rodney takes the seat farthest from the giant fire hazard on the table. When Woolsey sees him eyeing the documents, he makes a startled sound that’s a little close to a groan.

“There may have been a little disagreement with the new British IOA representative. She sent those to me last night.”

To Rodney’s surprise, Woolsey winces at the end of his sentence. “Disagreement?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Which prompted her to send you the Brazilian Tax Laws.”

Their staring contest lasts for a full minute before Woolsey sighs. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Rodney’s triumph at having out-stared Richard Woolsey is cut short when his mind processes this revelation, conjuring up images of his boss with a bureaucrat lover.

“Right,” he says, hoping to end it at that. “You wanted to see me?”

Woolsey nods. “Yes, I did. I wanted to talk to you about the preparations for the city’s departure.”

Remembering his recent screaming match with Radek, Rodney huffs.

“I _could_ give you updates, but seeing as my position as the Chief Science Officer is being challenged by Czech usurpers, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until one of us flings himself off the Control Tower. Bear in mind, it’s not going to be me.”

The silence that follows his words is only slightly unnerving.

“Usurper,” Woolsey echoes.

Rodney raises both his eyebrows, not entirely in the mood to repeat himself. When Woolsey just continues to blink at him, he considers it a lost cause.

“Oh all right,” he surrenders. “I’ll have my lab back this afternoon, I’m sure. He’ll run out of steam eventually, and when he comes across a problem his inferior grasp of wormhole theory can’t handle, he’ll come crying to me. As for the preparations, we’re all set. We’ve been ready for weeks, Richard. It’s your side of the equation that’s been dragging its feet.”

Woolsey, for his part, gives him a sheepish smile. “That’s good to hear. I trust most of your staff members have returned?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was locked out of the labs? Ask Zelenka, I’m sure he cares about things like that.”

“…Right.” There’s a few beats before Woolsey’s eyes light up. “Which reminds me, there’s something else I needed to ask you.”

“Well?” Rodney briefly considers tapping his feet, but he knows that will just make Woolsey talk slower.

“I’ve been going through the contracts of both new and returning personnel, and I don’t seem to see yours.”

Rodney’s stomach drops. “Umm.”

“Dr. McKay, I understand you are a very busy man, but it’s imperative that we complete all the paperwork before we leave. We do not want to give the IOA any more reason to change its mind.”

It’s only when Woolsey’s face started to look smaller that Rodney realizes he is slowly backing out of the office.

“Dr. McKay?”

“I’ll, uh, I will- I just, need to—”

Whatever Woolsey may have said is blocked by the doors sliding shut behind Rodney.

ix.

“Sheppard?” All Rodney can see of Sheppard’s face is the outline of his jaw. “Did you hear what I just said?”

As Sheppard swallows, Rodney’s eyes linger on the way the man’s throat bobs. It takes him a few tries before he shifts his gaze a few inches up.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Okay. Good. And?”

The nod Sheppard gives him is awfully familiar. Rodney recognizes it almost instantly. It’s the nod the Colonel uses when he’s made a decision that no one can ever hope to talk him out of. He's seen it every time Sheppard goes on a suicide mission, or volunteers for potentially-dangerous native rituals. He's seen it whenever he tells the team he won't make it to movie night. It's the nod Sheppard used when he refused to let Rodney die to save his sister.

“I know,” he tells Rodney, turning a little to give him a hollow smile. “Keller told me.”

Rodney feels his jaw drop. “ _What?_ ”

The shrill sound that comes out of his mouth makes Sheppard wince.

“Before the, well, recon mission with O’Neill. We ran into each other and she told me.”

After flipping through the mental calendar he barely keeps track of on a good day, Rodney almost lifts himself off his chair. “Does that mean—You mean you knew before _I_ did?”

As someone whose best friend and girlfriend didn’t exactly get along, Rodney knows he has the right to do a double take.

Sheppard, who is giving Rodney the most pathetic attempt at a casual shrug, seems bent on ignoring it.

“Stop overreacting, McKay. She looked excited, all right? It wasn’t like I was the first person she wanted to tell.”

A long time ago, or maybe even last week, Rodney’s sure he won’t notice the slight flinch that tells him Sheppard isn’t exactly telling the truth.

“And?” Rodney repeats, this time a little more insistent. There’s something under his skin that is thrumming, but he’s not sure if it’s anticipation or dread.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. When Sheppard does speak again, his voice comes out softer than San Francisco’s night lights.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

It’s phrased as a question, but Rodney knows that Sheppard’s not expecting him to respond at all.

Still, Rodney won’t be who he is if he doesn’t try. “What...what do you mean?”

His own voice also comes out barely above a whisper, and when Sheppard finally turns to face him, even that gets robbed from him, his throat stuck on everything he can't even begin to think about, much less articulate.

“It’s your dream, Rodney.” As he watches Sheppard’s brittle smile, something in Rodney’s chest stutters. “Of course you’re gonna say yes.”

x.

_“I’ll see you Wednesday. Love you.”_

By the time he hangs up, Rodney realizes that he’s already reached the infirmary.

When he radioed Carson earlier, he was in the middle of a verbal spat with Radek about the power consumption of the other man’s pet project. Radek, who insisted that the recalibration of the naquadah generators’ power distribution system was not a pet project and was in fact, a vital part of the science department’s responsibilities, attempted to chase him out of the lab again. Rodney, of course, was having none of it, so he barely heard Caron’s response to his question before he switched off the medical channel.

“He’s still unconscious?” he asks, when he sees that Sheppard’s eyes are still very much closed.

From his place next to the IV pole, Carson rolls his eyes. “I told you an hour ago, didn’t I?”

“Is he ever gonna wake up?”

The words leave Rodney’s lips in one rush, like Mach 2 is the only speed he can speak to avoid the impact of what the question implies.

“He did,” Carson says, his smile patient. “Yesterday, remember? You were here.”

Rodney was, in fact, in the infirmary when Sheppard first opened his eyes, along with Teyla, Torren, and Ronon. For all thirty seconds of it.

He shrugs, finding a seat that looks like it won’t permanently damage his back. “Wouldn’t hurt for him to wake up again, you know. Tell us what’s so exciting on the other side of consciousness.”

Silence follow his mediocre attempt at levity, and Rodney’s grateful that Carson doesn’t reach out to offer him comfort.

“Don’t worry, lad.” When Carson finally stops fiddling with the tubes connected to Sheppard, he looks down to note something on his tablet, his eyes shielded from Rodney as he continues. “I’m sure he’ll be right as rain by the time you come back.”

Rodney stills. “Come back?”

This time, Carson raises his head and looks at Rodney from beneath his lashes.

“You are joining Jennifer, right? In Wisconsin?” Rodney doesn’t miss the way the man’s eyes twitch to somewhere in the bed before they return to meet Rodney’s gaze. “She told me about it yesterday.”

“I—” His throat catches on the vowel, and he forces himself to swallow.

“You _are_ coming back, right? At least to see us off?”

When Carson looks at the bed again, and Rodney can see that his eyes are lingering on Sheppard’s sleeping form, he doesn’t bother hiding it.

Rodney’s gut lurches, and he manages a sharp nod. “Of course, I’m, I— Yeah. I’ll…I’ll be back.”

Carson shoots him a smile, but the relief in his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Carson?”

When Rodney shifts in his chair, torn between standing up and sinking in his seat, Carson brushes him off.

“It’s nothing, I just…it won’t be the same without you there, you know?” When he shoots Rodney a smirk, it’s half-hearted at best. “Though I’m sure your ego is delighted at the confirmation, things will no doubt be hard without you around.” He shrugs, his fingers now fiddling with the tablet. “It would take a little getting used to.”

Judging by the direction of their conversation, Rodney realizes that Jennifer may have told Carson way more than their trip to the Midwest.

“Rodney?”

“Jennifer told you,” is all he managers to say.

Carson looks confused, but he nods like Rodney just asked a question.

“Yes,” he says. “Said you’re going to meet her father, and she’ll— Rodney?”

Rodney just shakes his head, silently begging for Carson to understanding without having to spell it out. He's not even sure _what_ it is he really wants to say.

“Oh. The reassignment? We talked about that, too, yes. Frankly, I was quite surprised when she said—Oh. _Oh_. Rodney?”

The sound Carson makes as it dawns on him is too loud in the quiet infirmary, and in the stillness that settles in Rodney’s mind.

“Bloody hell. You haven’t— But Jennifer said— Oh, _Rodney_.”

This time, Carson moves around the bed to reach him, the weight of his hand on Rodney’s shoulder so full of pity that he can almost choke from it.

“You daft bugger. You haven’t decided yet, have you?”

There really isn’t much to do but shake his head again, the weight of the past week crashing down on him. When Carson makes more comforting noises, Rodney looks up just in time to see the other man’s face, which is now tinged with relief as he looks at Sheppard on the bed again.

Rodney decides he’s had enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he all but growls. “What’s going on?”

Carson blinks, but he doesn’t answer. Then his eyes flicker a little to the left, and Rodney’s patience turns to mist.

“That! _That_ is what I’m talking about!” His breath comes in short gasps, and his vision is starting to dim at the edges. “You, Teyla, _Jennifer_. Even Radek! What’s going on? I tell you I might not return to Pegasus and you ask about _John_. I mean, what the hell? Did I tell him about it? _No_. Seeing as he’s practically dead to world right now, you can bet I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

Eventually, he runs out of steam, and his shoulders slump like a sack of bricks. When he gets his breathing back, he looks up at Carson.

“Carson, what’s going on? What is everybody not telling me?”

After a beat, Carson sighs, pulls a chair, and starts talking.

xi.

As he recalls Carson’s words, Rodney’s racing heart begins to settle.

This is John. Despite everything else that may or may not happen, he knows John Sheppard.

“Do you want me to go?”

Because his eyes are on Sheppard, he can see the moment the man freezes, muscles taut and locked with so much tension that _Rodney_ can feel his own arms shaking.

It’s a while before Sheppard answers, voice catching. “Rodney—”

“Answer the question,” Rodney interrupts.

Sheppard breathes out a frustrated huff, but his chest is still the only part of him that moves.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

The one eye Rodney can see narrows, and Sheppard’s hands visibly curl into fists. “Is that how it is?”

“Just answer the damn question, John.” This time, even Sheppard’s chest stills. “Do you want me to go?”

There’s another huff, and for a moment, Rodney’s glad because that means Sheppard is breathing again. When the man opens his mouth to answer, however, Rodney knows he’s still on script.

“Like I said, I think—”

“Want.” Rodney can feel his own patience wearing thin, but he reins in whatever control he still has left. “I’m asking you what you _want_.”

In all the years he’s known Sheppard, Rodney can’t recall a time when the man has been forthcoming with what he wants. It’s always been what he has to do, what he thinks needs to be done, even what he shouldn’t be doing. But never what he wants. So it’s with a measure of guilt and regret that Rodney decides that enough is enough.

“Look at me.”

When Sheppard doesn’t, Rodney shifts in his seat, to get closer. By the time he’s close enough to reach out, Rodney realizes that Sheppard’s still barely moving.

“John.” Slowly, Rodney places a hand on Sheppard’s arm, and almost immediately, goosebumps break out on the other man’s tanned skin. “Please.”

Part of Rodney has always known that there isn’t much Sheppard can deny him, and just for tonight, he uses that to his advantage knowingly.

An eternity passes before Sheppard finally turns, and when their eyes meet, it’s Rodney’s turn to freeze.

It’s all in Sheppard’s face. Everything for everyone in two galaxies to see, and it’s with adistant shame that Rodney berates himself for not having seen it before.

When he gets his breathing back, he forces himself to speak in a steady voice.

“Are you in love with me?”

Not even Teyla’s careful inquires or Carson’s direct revelations are enough to prepare him for the way Sheppard stiffens, then sighs in deep resignation.

“You don’t wanna ask me that, buddy.”

Rodney allows himself a moment to be stunned. The words all but confirm the answer to his question.

“Take me back,” Sheppard interrupts the silence, turning his face away again. “I’m tired.”

“No.”

They both jump at that, Rodney surprising even himself with the resolve he hears in his voice. He places a firm hand at the back of the wheelchair, lest Sheppard decides to find his own way back to the infirmary and out of their conversation.

“You’re not getting out of this, John. Not this time.”

It’s ironic, not to mention sanctimonious, for Rodney to make such a demand. Last month, he never would’ve thought he’d be here, possessing this knowledge. But there’s no turning back now. They’ve always been heading to this, him and John. It just took him a while to catch up, that’s all.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rodney.”

Sheppard keeps his gaze on his hands, which Rodney can see are shaking, from their place on Sheppard’s lap.

“The truth,” Rodney says. “Dammit, John. Just answer the question.”

If Sheppard were a lesser man, he would’ve brushed Rodney off. He doesn’t owe anyone anything, after all. Certainly not Rodney.

But he just clenches his jaw, and takes another deep breath.

“And I told you. You don’t wanna hear it.”

This time, it’s Rodney whose hands clench into tight fists. “ _Why._ ”

When he whirls to face Rodney, his eyes are bright with emotion. Rodney almost backs off, if he isn’t already caged in the borders of his own chair.

“Because I know this isn’t what you want,” Sheppard spits out, voice hard and edged. “You don’t want anything to do with this, and you don’t _have_ to. I don’t know what–” His voice catches, causing the words to stumble carelessly. It takes a while before any measure of control returns, and Rodney can’t do anything but listen. “I don’t know what brought this on, but I’m telling you, just drop it okay? This is all on me. It doesn’t have to be your problem at all. It’s all on _me_.”

“John…”

“If you’re worried because you think you have, I don’t know, some sort of _obligation_ to me,” at this, Sheppard snorts derisively, “you’re wrong. You don’t even need to let me down easy. I’ve come to terms with things a long time ago. In fact, we can pretend this conversation didn’t even happen, how about that? Okay? Okay.”

For a split second, Sheppard holds his gaze, hard, and nods resolutely before turning away, hands finding purchase on the chair’s armrests.

It’s in watching his best friend twist himself into knots in front of him, flayed open but still so stubborn and firm in his refusal to _answer the fucking question_ , that Rodney realizes what Sheppard’s trying to do.

“No,” Rodney hears himself say. “I think not.”

John is trying to make things easier for the both of them, give Rodney a clean and bloodless out.

It only succeeds in bringing the anger Rodney wasn’t even sure he had in him to the surface.

“You’ve perfected this noble idiocy act so well you can’t even see it, can you? Well _fuck you_ , John. Like I said, not this time.”

It’s with a twisted sense of glee that Rodney notices the way Sheppard’s hands stop shaking when he looks up at Rodney, because Rodney has stood up somewhere between his outburst, and is now fighting every urge to pace the length of the balcony.

“You think you’re the only one who has any right to determine how this goes? Sitting there throwing out words you must’ve practiced a dozen times already, pretending like you’re not shaking in your boots. Well _newsflash_ Colonel, this isn’t how it goes.”

He pauses long enough to throw a glare Sheppard’s way, barely catching the stunned look on the other man’s face. Rodney feels the triumph coursing through his veins at the sight of it.

“Rodney–”

“ _No_. No. You don’t get to say anything anymore. You’ve just proven to me how much of a stupid idea It was to let you talk in the first place. I should’ve expected it. You practically borrowed every play in some Forlorn Lover’s Guide book. No. It is _my_ turn. And you will just have to sit there and listen.”

Rodney’s on a roll, the words practically bubbling up his throat in his haste to get them out, but when he makes the mistake of looking at Sheppard before he continues, all of it flicker out like a snuffed candle, drowned out by the darkness that sweeps him back to slump in his seat.

Because Sheppard looks wrecked in his chair, absolutely destroyed, and it’s the first time Rodney has ever seen him like this, like all the strings keeping him upright have been cut, and Rodney’s bloody hands are holding the shears.

“I’m sorry,” he all but whispers, hand curling into a fist next to Sheppard’s. “I didn’t mean to– I can’t– I’m sorry. _I'm sorry_.”

It’s both the hardest and the easiest thing in the world, to drop his head on John’s shoulder, which keeps on hitching as John tries his damndest to breathe through what must be tangible pain.

“You were just gonna let me go, were you.” Rodney’s own breath stutters, an answer to each and every single one of John’s dry and heavy gasps. “You were really just going to stand there and wish me a happy life, and I never would’ve– I wouldn’t have known at all.”

It’s so easy, really not a hardship at all, to move one hand and grip John’s fingers in his own. They hold each other like that for a long while, no other words between them.

Under a moonless sky, and so far from home, they both wait for the storm to pass.


End file.
